When the Past Collides With the Present
by brittany89
Summary: After Samantha and Martin breakup, they are forced into a dire situation where the only way they can survive is to rely on each other. Will they get back together? MS
1. The Hurtful Breakup

**Chapter one**

**-The Hurtful Breakup-**

**XxX**

_-November 27-_

The dinging of the oven and the delicious smell announced that the turkey was ready. Martin walked to the oven and pulled the turkey out. He placed the bird on the stove. He peaked in the turkey and saw the cranberry stuffing sizzling. It was just the way Aunt Bonnie cooked it. He smiled at his triumph.

He walked around the counter to pick up the mash potatoes and green beans to put them on the table. He stepped back with his hands on his hip. He took in a deep breath. He was proud of himself. It was the best Thanksgiving dinner that he had ever made. And all the hard work was for only one person: Samantha.

He and Samantha were invited to go to Vivian's house for Thanksgiving, but they turned it down or rather she did. Samantha wanted to act like a couple, but only if nobody was around to witness it.

Suddenly, there was a quiet knock at the door; it was barely audible. Martin floated his way across the living room and arrived at the door. Samantha stood in the doorway wearing tight fitting jeans and a dark purple blouse. Her long, blonde hair hung in curls over her shoulders. Martin was mesmerized by how beautiful she was. She gave him a bright smile.

Martin stared at her. It was as if he had seen her before joining the FBI. It was as if he had known her before. He recognized her personality.

It wasn't until Samantha cleared her throat did Martin zip back to reality and noticed the pumpkin pie in her hands. He stepped aside making room for Samantha to enter. He stared nervously at the pie.

Samantha saw his reaction and sighed. "Don't worry; I got it from the store."

A smile overtook Martin's mouth as he reached out for it. "Okay," he said with a grin. He kissed her on the mouth.

She turned around and smacked him playfully on the arm. "My cooking can't be that bad," she resented. Samantha took her coat off and placed it on the back of the couch. She walked over to the table and stared at the dinner set on the table. She knew that it took Martin all day to prepare this meal. She wanted him to know that she was grateful. "Wow, this is amazing," she said. She stuck her finger in the mash potatoes and brought it to her lips, tasting the creamy deliciousness.

Martin placed the pumpkin pie on the counter and turned his attention to the whole turkey. He sighed with the heavy task of carving it. He grabbed the knife and stared at it at first to decide where to start.

Samantha saw his expression on his face. She walked over to him and grabbed another knife from the drawer. She stepped up beside Martin and held up the knife; a smile proclaimed her face.

Martin stared at her, grateful for the help. As he carved into the turkey, his mind began to wonder about Samantha. Samantha was hard; she was hard to crack. Getting her to open up was like trying to get a pig to lay an egg, but she was compassionate, caring, and loving. She always tried to help with everything. And then there was the "we cannot tell anybody about our relationship" thing. It made his ego feel inadequate. It was like she was ashamed of being with him. Besides the relationship problem, Samantha's personality made him flock to her with created an unwanted dilemma.

Samantha dug the knife into the turkey. She glanced up and caught Martin staring at her with a blank look. "What?" she asked, not catching onto his thoughts.

"Nothing, I just …" he trailed off.

Samantha moved her face closer to his in order to hear him better. Her eyes widened. She knew what was coming. She gave a nervous smile and tilted her head to the side.

Martin put the knife down gently and stared at her for a moment. He sighed. "I just don't see why we have to keep this a secret." He searched her face for an answer.

Samantha lowered her eyes, afraid to look at him. Her fingers found her shirt, and they began to tug at the silky blouse. "I…I just don't think it's a good idea," she said in a low, unsure voice.

Martin crossed his arms and glared at her. He was about to drop the subject when something similar to anger arose in his heart. "I don't think this relationship is a good idea," he said, raising his voice. He stared at her with fire in his eyes.

Samantha felt all breath expel from her body. Her head shot up to stare at him intently. In a low and steady voice she said, "you don't mean that."

Martin stood unmoving staring at her wearing an angry face. He moved his jaw and worked his tongue in his cheek. "Don't I?" He paused. More anger bubbled to the surface. "I wish I never went out with you, Sam. You've been nothing but trouble and hard work."

Samantha's face contorted into hurt. She stumbled backwards grasping at her chest. Her breath had caught in her throat. She couldn't believe what he had just told her.

The room was silent, dead silent.

As soon as Martin released those horrifying words from his mouth, he immediately regretted it. The hurt in her eyes and the pain in her heart was unbearable. Her face was soft, tender, innocent. She looked like a helpless child. He felt guilty. Martin immediately threw his hand up and grasped onto Samantha's wrist. "I'm so sorry; I didn't mean it," he said in a low, caring voice.

Samantha stared at Martin. His face was full of sincere apology, but it hurt way too much. She looked down at Martin's hand. She felt like crying; tears stung her eyes. She lowered her voice and gazed back to Martin's eyes. Her eyes began to fill with tears threatening to fall. "Yes you did," she said in a whisper. She jiggled her arm free and grabbed her coat. She placed her hand on the door knob but stopped. She released the door knob and turned around. She glanced down at the table full of food. "I'm sorry you had to go through so much trouble," she said with a shaking voice. With that she turned around and left.

Martin sighed; he felt like crying. He knew that he hurt her. He walked over and sat down at the kitchen table and stared at his dinner. He felt guilty and stupid but most of all heartbroken. He loved her more than anybody could fathom but staying with her made him feel inferior and invisible. He couldn't decide what was worse. And now it was too late. The words just flowed out of his mouth; he didn't even think of Samantha as being trouble and hard work. He wasn't thinking. Martin put his forehead in his hand and stared blankly at the uneaten Thanksgiving dinner. He had to go on with his life with knowing he hurt the one person he loved and a guilty conscience. But somehow, getting back with her never crossed his mind.

XxX

Ominous clouds released its rage on the quiet streets and unsuspecting victims of New York.

Samantha purposely strode down the street; her boots against the pavement was the only audible sound. The air was so bitter cold that it was nipping at her nose and ears with such fierce determination.

Everybody was with their families. But not Samantha; she was alone, once again.

Samantha was beginning to get soaking wet. Her curly locks were now straight, dripping strands. Tears ran down her face unnoticeable mixing with the rain. That was one thing that Samantha liked about the rain: When you cried in the rain, nobody would notice.

Samantha began to pick up the pace as she walked down the streets, eventually breaking into a steady jog. Martin's words stung hard. She knew she shouldn't have left anybody in her heart again. Martin had demolished the barriers she worked so hard to create, and with one sentence, the cracked barriers tumbled down on her with a vengeance. She knew from this point on that no man would be able to steal her heart again. She wasn't going to allow it, but that's exactly what she said before she met Martin.

It never occurred to Samantha to take a cab or subway. The only thing she thought about was Martin's burning words replaying in her head like somebody was rewinding a movie. The tears never let up. By the time she reached her apartment, her eyes were red and puffy. Her nose ran like a sprinter in a marathon. Her legs were tired from the seemingly blank walk that she had accidently explored.

Samantha stumbled into her dark apartment. Exhaustion harassed her legs and her being. With her heart aching and no motivation to do anything, not even change her wet jeans and blouse, she climbed into bed and pulled the blanket above her head as if the blanket would cloud out her pain. She lay in her wet bed, slightly shivering, but there was no reason to get out of bed.

She tossed and turned that night; sleep never came no matter how much Samantha willed it. With the sun rising steadily behind the buildings and the birds chirping, Samantha had no need to nourish her body with food. She eventually had lulled herself to sleep long after the sun rose.

**XxX**

**Okay so I know that this is kind of sad and slow, but believe me when I say that it gets a hell of a lot better. So please review and tell me what you thought. You may have ideas or comments….I don't care. Just please review. I won't update until I have some reviews.**


	2. One Night

**Chapter two**

_**-**_**One Night-**

Samantha watched the illuminated numbers on the elevator, and she listened to the annoying sound that accompanied it. Though her façade of happiness and acceptance was plastered into her personality, Samantha shook her leg with apprehension. It had been less than three days since the breakup. Her holiday vacation had consisted of lying in bed contemplating her next move. She was about to see Martin for the first time since Thanksgiving. She decided to blow him off; it was her way of retorting, but she had to seem happy, extremely happy.

When Samantha stepped of the elevator and into the bullpen, Martin was not there. A wave of relief washed over her as she happily walked to her desk. Turmoil churned inside her; keeping up appearances was going to be hard, especially in front of Martin.

"Hey Sam," Elena cheerfully greeted her with her heavy accent. She walked over to her desk and sat at the edge. "How was your Thanksgiving?"

It was a casual question. It was one that friends constantly asked each other, but for some reason, this question seemed different. It seemed as if Elena was burning a hole where Martin had already gouged.

Samantha lowered her eyes. "Fine," she said trying to sound bubbly. She looked up at Elena. "How was yours?"

Elena smiled a bright smile. "It was great. Danny is a wonderful cook; he had the greatest food." She took in a deep breath through her nose as if she was having a flashback of Thanksgiving dinner. "Sophie had fun too."

Samantha felt like Elena was rubbing it in her face. It was impossible because nobody had known about her and Martin's relationship, unless Martin had bragged about his hurtful words to everybody on the team.

Samantha didn't know why, but the immense need to look up at the elevator was incomprehensible, and when she did, she immediately regretted it.

Martin stole a glance at Samantha, and to her dismay he walked a straight line to her.

Once again, as if on cue Elena got up and walked away.

Samantha's heart began to race. She turned around and occupied herself with her computer pretending not to notice Martin's path straight for her. She felt a warm and gentle hand rest on her shoulders. It tingled with emotional pain. She turned around and flashed him an ice cold look, not allowing her gaze to reveal any sadness or bewilderment. "Yeah?" she said with agitation booming in her voice.

Martin hesitated. She was clearly mad. It's not like he could blame her. What he had said was damaging. What she didn't know was that he longed to touch her in an intimate way; his heart was breaking too. He leaned in close so that Samantha could feel his hot breath on her ear. "I'm really sorry if I hurt you. I really didn't mean it. I care about you, Sam."

If? If he hurt her? Thanksgiving had been nothing but a painful memory surrounded by a ambiguous sheath. She couldn't handle him being this close to her, not right now. She quickly stood up forcing her chair to slide back. She gave Martin a feeble smile. "It's fine," she said before dismissing herself.

Martin watched Samantha walk away from him for the second time in a row. He took a deep breath before proceeding to his desk.

Samantha made a straight line to the bathroom. She focused on her reflection for a brief moment before splashing cold water on her face. "You can do this," she coaxed herself. With a few deep breaths, she walked out of the bathroom and back to her desk. There was paperwork waiting for her, and it wasn't going to do itself.

Danny and Elena were at Elena's desk flirting back and forth. Vivian and Martin were at their desks concentrating on their paperwork, but ever so often their eyes would wonder towards the conspicuous couple. Jack had disappeared in his office for most of the day.

Samantha and Martin each tried to focus on their work, but it was impossible. Their eyes darted to the other with every sentence read. Each trying to look subtle but failing miserably.

Samantha would give a chuckle each time she thought Martin was staring at her for no reason. It seemed to be working because of the inquisitive look that Martin kept giving her. This made Samantha's glow grow even more. He was actually intrigued by her random outbursts of laughter.

"One more hour, guys," Jack said suddenly appearing from his office. "But I think we could all use a break."

Without hesitation, the six walked to the break room, genuine laughter filled the air except Samantha's; her laughter was forced and uneven. She walked to the vending machine and decided that apple sauce was the right choice for her. With bothersome clinking, the apple sauce made its final destination. Samantha opened the door and picked it up. She scooted to the counter to grab a plastic spoon before turning around. The five were gathered around the table with the only empty seat was in between Vivian and Martin. Samantha kicked herself for grabbing a snack. She walked over and sat next to him, engaging herself in the conversation of choice: Thanksgiving.

"We had five people over for dinner. Reggie and Marcus were in heaven," Vivian said. She rolled her eyes. "They watched football the entire time."

"I don't get why men love football so much," Samantha said, looking at Vivian.

"I like it only because the men wear tight pants," Elena said, sheepishly grinning at Danny who was smiling.

For the first time in a while, Samantha genuinely laughed.

"What about you, Martin," Jack asked. He took a sip of his canned soda.

Martin looked to Samantha who looked down. His heart started to beat faster with each passing second. It was horrible. "It was good," he lied. "I made a killer stuffing." He smiled halfheartedly.

Samantha turned her attention away from Martin. She felt small. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms suddenly disinterested in the conversation and her apple sauce.

"I think it's time we get back to work," Jack stated.

With a few minutes left to go on the clock, Samantha grew anxious. She needed to get out from underneath Martin's scrutinizing stare.

"Go home. Go get some rest," said Jack.

Martin wanted to go talk to Samantha, but he wasn't going to try and talk to Samantha. He was just going to get the cold shoulder, not like it wasn't justified. He desperately wanted Samantha to forgive him, maybe a little more than he should. Maybe it was to settle his guilty conscience. But finally he settled with saying good night to Samantha as friends do.

Samantha rushed passed Martin, almost in a blur. "Night," she said in a sweat voice that accompanied a small smile.

When Samantha got out of the FBI building, she took a deep breath. She felt like she could breathe again. Pure oxygen was wonderful. She hailed a taxi and gave the driver her address. Then she began to contemplate of the boring and uneventful evening that was awaiting her at home; she didn't want to go home to an empty and lonely house. She leaned forward so that the driver could hear her better; she gave him a new address.

Within twenty minutes, Samantha found herself standing outside of Club Underground. It was a 21 year old dance club. When she was younger, she loved to go clubbing especially since her mother didn't approve.

She slowly walked to the entrance and showed the man her I.D. She walked in and immediately felt the loud music vibrate through her feet and to her head. She smiled as the harmonic music reverberated into her ears. Anxiously, she descended the stairs to see a crowd of people rocking to the beat. Some held drinks in their hands while others held cigarettes. A dozen or so people sat at the bar waiting for their drinks. The multitude of various colors of light bounced off perfectly angled mirrors and disco balls creating a reflection of dancing lights.

Samantha walked up to the bar and sat down on the stool. She felt out of place, but any place was better than home. "Screwdriver," she ordered. As soon as the drink was brewed, she picked it up and headed to the dance floor. This reminded her of her rebellious teenage years in Kenosha. At first, she shyly stood in the middle of the dance floor; people all around her kept bumping into her. Then the beat trapped Samantha as her hips began to sway.

Suddenly a pair of unfamiliar hands wrapped around Samantha's waist. At first, she jumped. She looked to the man who had a hold of her to see a handsome man. He was tall and had a killer body. His baby face held his broad, bright, blue eyes. His brown hair was slightly longer than normal. He had a single curl of hair hanging over his forehead. Minus the hair, he looked like Martin in a way.

Samantha smiled as she thrusted her butt up against him. The pair swayed violently to the beat. Lights blinded the pair as they sipped their drinks.

"What's your name?" the man asked after the song. He spun Samantha around so that their chests were touching.

"Samantha," she yelled in his ear to be heard.

"Hi, Samantha, I'm Greg," he yelled back. "Want another dance?"

Samantha smiled amiably at the stranger. She settled herself against his body, swinging to the beat. As their cups became empty, sweet began to drip off of the pair. Greg's hands roamed Samantha's hips and stomach freely.

Samantha smiled. She was having a good time. She needed this; she needed something to get her mind off of Martin. Greg was the perfect diversion. While many other guys asked Greg to cut in, he refused giving Samantha a sense of belonging and worthiness.

Before they knew it, the club was closing. It was 2:00am. Their feet and knees burned with the constant rocking and bending. Their breathing was heavy from their elevated heart rates. The blast of cold air as they left the club felt divergent on their hot bodies.

Nor Samantha or Greg was drunk. They had their fun but not at a nauseating price. They were both sober when Samantha climbed into the passenger's seat of Greg's car.

**XxX**

**Sorry guys but Samantha must find a new mate for my plan to work. Don't worry; there is plenty of Smarty in the next chapters so hang with me. I need reviews to continue....**


	3. The Bank

**Chapter three**

**-The Bank-**

**XxX**

**-December 23-**

Snow and ice blanketed the ground. The cold bit at last minute shoppers as they navigated their way through the crowded streets. Christmas lights hung from trees and lamps, and at night, it illuminated the dark streets with colorful light shows.

Samantha walked down the street. She was headed to the bank and then to the stores. She had to get a gift from Greg. Though she had no idea what he wanted, she decided to wing it.

Going out with Greg only made Samantha miss Martin even more. She found herself unconsciously comparing Martin and Greg constantly. Samantha wasn't sure if she liked Greg or if she forced herself to like Greg. Whatever the reason, they were a couple. She knew they wouldn't last long; it was inevitable, but the journey was still fun. It took her mind off of Martin as she continued to blow him off. She was never going to forgive him; she wouldn't allow herself to give her that contentment. She missed him more than anybody could ever know.

As she entered the bank, she took off her black, leather gloves and shoved them in her pocket. She looked to the line. She frowned as the line at this point in time was fairly long; to make matters worse, there were only two tellers. She walked over and stood in the line glancing at the clock. It read 9:23am. She looked down at her jeans and straightened a crease.

"Sam," she heard a familiar voice call her name.

She turned around to find the source of the voice. She saw Martin walking up to her taking a place in line behind her. She sighed. What was he doing here? She plastered a smile on her face and said, "Martin."

"What are you doing here?"

Samantha felt bad; Martin had been trying desperately to become friends with her, but she wasn't ready to forgive and forget. He hurt her; the pain still lingered in her heart. She had decided to be a little nicer to him and only talk to him when it was necessary. And this was one of those times.

She gave him a feeble smile and held up her check for emphasis. "I'm cashing my check." She turned around and faced the front.

Martin smiled. "Ditto." Samantha was giving him a false sense of hope. She was talking to him, and they weren't even at work. He paused. "How have you been?" He had been itching to know.

Samantha turned around. She shot him a look of contempt. "What's it to you?" She turned around again. She was still third in line. Could the line go any faster?

Martin grabbed her elbow and forced her to look at him. He seemed to be hurt that the woman he loved hated him. He looked into her eyes with a soothing sparkle. "Is this the way it's going to be for the rest of our lives?" He asked. "I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me?"

The look in Martin's eyes reminded Samantha of the look of love and appreciating that he once used to always give her. She couldn't be next to him with him touching her. She was afraid her emotions would pour out of her eyes. "Nothing. It's nothing. Just forget it." She wasn't in the mood to talk about anything with Martin.

Martin frowned. He could never figure out how to get her to open up to him. It was an impractical undertaking. He cared about her more than he should have for being…whatever they were. Being next to her was like torture. Martin backed down; he was tired of confronting her.

Samantha began to look around the bank, pretending not to notice Martin's stare. She was first in line now. The line behind her had grown smaller consisting of only, not counting Martin, three adults. There was a small child in the right hand corner playing with the simple toys that the bank offered. She seemed to have engaged herself in a child's book. There was a woman sitting at a desk in the far left hand side of the bank, typing furiously at the computer.

"Next," a blonde headed woman announced. She had a smile on her face, and Samantha wondered if it was because she was supposed to be happy or if she was actually happy.

Samantha walked up to the teller feeling Martin's eyes burning into her. She was thankful that she was away from Martin. As soon as Samantha rested her arms on the counter, she heard mayhem. She whipped her head around to see a man wearing jeans and a T-shirt waving a gun around. He looked angry, like on a mission.

"Get on the ground!" he yelled in a thick voice. His green eyes were wide. He was short but muscular. He looked to be about 50 years old. The wrinkles on his face betrayed him because he seemed more active as a 50 year old than a 21 year old would. He didn't seem the least bit nervous.

The mother of the child made a mad dash to her daughter who was innocently still playing with the book. She was confused as her mother swooped her off her feet and forced her on the ground. As her mother shielded her daughter with her body, the child began to squirm. A man who was behind Martin ran behind a tiny sign as if it was going to stop a speeding bullet. But everybody else was lying on the ground, staring nervously at the man.

Samantha's heart stopped. Fear rushed over her. She immediately flashed back to being in the bookstore. When she was in the bookstore, fear never even crossed her mind until she was shot. She fell to the floor, flat on her stomach. She looked to Martin. Martin was lying on his stomach too. His eyes were fixed on Samantha, and they were easy to read. His eyes expelled nervousness.

The room was dead silent.

Samantha knew that if the tellers did what they were told then they would be out of there in no time. And why wouldn't they? They would have a gun to their head.

At first Samantha began to panic as memories of being shot overcame her. Being in a hostage situation was a one in a million thing, and now she was in two within a few years. She began to panic as the physical pain of being shot washed over her. Then just as quickly as her panic arrived, it disappeared. She wasn't going allow her imagination to take a hold on her. She decided that she was going to get away; she was going to fight. Now, she thanked Berry Mashburn. Berry wasn't nearly as heartless as the robber.

The robber did the strangest thing. He didn't run to the tellers demanding money. Instead, he ran to an African American man who stood six feet tall. He handed the man a can of spray paint and ordered him to spray every single camera. With fear in his eyes, the African American man stood slowly as if testing the boundaries of the crazed man. He took the paint and climbed on top of the counters straying each camera until the eyes of the bank were closed.

The man with the gun, then, went to a woman and ordered her to close all the blinds. The woman didn't hesitate. She practically sprinted to the windows and drew the blinds down cutting off the public viewing into the bank.

"Don't do anything drastic and nobody gets hurt," the robber said. However, the gun in his hand made his claim implausible.

Samantha could see the worry in Martin's eyes at her apparently brief display of panic. He had no right to look at her like that: His face was full of compassion, melancholy, concern, and desperation. He lost that right to look at her like that. Feelings that never really extinguished had grown with such intensity that it hit her like a ten ton brick. The mixture of fear of being shot and the feelings of Martin's painful breakup caused enough hassle that Samantha began to cry. She had to turn away. She rotated her body slightly so that it would be impossible for Martin to see her.

With no possible way of the outside world seeing inside the bank, the robber began to look around at his nine hostages sprawled out on the floor. He made a note of each, but his eyes scanned the bank for someone in particular.

_Why isn't he demanding money? _Samantha thought. She began to wonder if Martin had his gun, and she began to beat herself up for leaving her gun at home.

"Okay boys and girls," the robber announced, "you can all sit up."

Everybody hesitated at first, glancing nervously at the robber.

Samantha sat up against the counter and took a long look at Martin. He got up from his position and crawled to her side, propping himself so that they were shoulder to shoulder.

"How are you doing?" Martin whispered into Samantha's ear.

Samantha wanted to run. She wanted to be free of this mess, but she was stuck with the man with the gun and the man that she hated. She looked at him and gave him a weak smile. "I'm fine." She decided that she should be nice to him considering a man with a gun was holding them hostage. "What about you?"

Martin laughed. "It's funny how we're asking each other how we are when we're in a bank that's being occupied by a man with a gun and a very short fuse."

Samantha couldn't help it; she laughed. Then her face grew with annoyance. She was letting him in, getting closer to him. He wasn't supposed to make her laugh. Her thoughts were cut off when there was a jiggle of the door handle.

A man stood at the door unaware of the chaos unfolding inside. With one swift movement the man opened the door. A blast of cold air caused everybody to shiver. His nose was buried in his wallet for whatever reason. There was no way he could have known. He was smiling; he was happy. A glow radiated off of him. He walked with confidence.

Samantha's heart began to race. This wasn't good. She shot her head up to look at the robber. The robber's face grew red hot; his veins popped out. With a quick reflex, the robber fixed his gun at the door. His grip went tight as a speeding bullet made a straight line to the man.

The victim wasn't even inside the bank yet. He had just opened the door, and when he heard the unmistakable sound of a shot being fired, he had only milliseconds to realize what was happening. The bullet entered his chest, killing him instantly. He flew back because of the force of the impact. The door slammed shut. The innocent victim lay on the pavement, dead with his eyes staring to the sky. Blood formed a massive red pool underneath his limp body.

The entire building shook with screams of fear. Samantha covered her face with her eyes. Sure she had seen people be killed; she had even killed people herself, but this was different. This was in cold blood. He didn't do anything. Now, she knew that the situation was dire even more so than she had initially thought in the beginning.

Martin gasped. The robber killed the man in cold blood. He instantly began to realize that it could have been him, Samantha, or anybody else that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wanted to run as far away from here as possible. But right now, it was his job to ensure that everybody else got out alive. Then he looked to Samantha. She had her face buried in her hands. He didn't know what he was thinking. It was a reflex as he raised his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders drawing her closer to him. The warmth that her body radiated was new and old at the same time.

Samantha felt the familiar arm wrap around her, protecting her. She loved it; she longed for it. She allowed herself to sink into his embrace for a moment before retracting her body. She stood straight up and stared at the robber.

"That, my friends, is what will happen to each and every one of you if you don't behave!" he threatened.

A few minutes passed. Each person sat unmoving and unable to speak. Finally one brave soul stood out.

It was the African American man. Fear and determination was written all over his face as he asked, "what are you going to do? You obviously aren't here to rob the joint." He asked the question that had been plaguing everybody's minds.

The robber laughed. His right arm (the one with the gun) fell to his side. He began to laugh with malevolence in his voice. He looked amused as his smile grew louder. He shifted his posture and turned to Samantha. He brought the gun up and used it as a means to point at Samantha.

Samantha stopped moving. She even stopped breathing until her body starved for oxygen. Why was he pointing his gun at her? She didn't do anything. Her body trembled with trepidation.

Martin's reaction was verbatim to Samantha's. His body stiffened as he glared at the man. The robber was pointing a gun at Samantha. He was just as terrified if not more terrified as Samantha. He was scared for Samantha. He needed to protect her; it was his job.

"Why don't you ask Samantha?" the robber said.

**XxX**

**Well that was chapter three….tell me what you think. Remember I won't update until I get a decent amount of reviews. **


	4. Anthony

**Chapter four**

**-Anthony-**

Samantha's mouth went wide with awe. She didn't know him; she had never seen him before in her life. She was bemused and shocked. Apparently, it was her fault that they were all in this predicament, and she didn't even know why. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

The robber walked slowly to Samantha.

Martin threw a protective arm around her. He scooted so that their bodies were pressed against each other. He glared at the robber audaciously.

The robber knelt down so that they could be face to face. He turned to Martin and gave him a ferocious look. "Surely you remember me?" he began. "I'm Anthony?" he said when there was no response. When both Samantha and Martin gave a look of puzzlement, he backed off and sighed. "Well that's okay. You'll soon come to remember me."

Martin turned to look at Samantha. She looked confused and a little bit scared. He smiled at her to reassure her. Then, he suddenly became comfortable having Samantha in his arms again. He could smell her sensational scent, as feelings he had tried to burry came back to remind him of everything. Martin began to panic. It couldn't be. He wasn't falling in love with her. It was impossible. His mind registered to snatch his hand back, but before he had a chance to act on his instinct, Samantha inched away from him.

Anthony reached out his arm and latched onto Samantha's. He gripped tightly making his knuckles white. He shook her once before leaning in. He leaned so close that Samantha could smell his sour breath. "Don't worry. You'll find out."

Samantha stared hard at him. Her iniquity look was enough to make anybody cringe except for Anthony. She shifted on the floor and stared over at everybody else. Seven others all had come out of hiding. Now, they were huddled within close proximity leaning against the wall or tables. They all wore the same face. The little girl had gotten her hands on the same book that she was playing with before. Samantha's gaze fell back on Anthony. She gave him a wicked look before saying, "I have no idea who you are. I think you should tell me so that we can get this moving."

Anthony laughed from his throat. He began to pace in front of Samantha and Martin. He opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind. Then he tried again. He waved his gun again. "You know you two make a cute couple." He turned his back against them.

Samantha and Martin looked at each other with a puzzled look.

He turned around with speed as he said, "but never in public. You two are always discrete. Never even holding hands or even looking at each other with lust." He stopped and stared at them. Their faces were of bewilderment. "Did I strike a nerve?"

Samantha put her head down and stared at her feet. She didn't know what to think or how to act.

Martin, on the other hand, was full of emotion. He was angry because he and Samantha were being watched. He was angry at Anthony for using a bank as a means of a hostage situation. He was sure that Anthony was going to manipulate anything and anyone he had to. But most of all, he was puzzled. He was puzzled because they had broken up a month ago, and he didn't know. He had obviously stopped stalking them a little while ago. But why?

Samantha looked up at Anthony. She couldn't help it. She wanted everything to be straightened out. She looked to Martin; hurt was evident in her eyes. Just thinking about it was too much cause for concern. "We broke up," she said in a whisper.

"Then how come you two are both in the bank at the same time?" Anthony asked rocking his gun back and forth between the two. "And how come you two are so close?"

Samantha opened her mouth to talk when the phone rang. Everybody looked to the phone then back at Anthony. The bothersome ringing caused everybody's ears to hurt.

Anthony looked down at the pair sitting against the counter. "It's your FBI buddies, isn't it?"

Samantha was shocked. How the hell did he know about them when they clearly didn't know anything about him?

Without any warning, Anthony walked over to the phone and pulled the plug out of the socket. He threw the phone on the ground with such force that it cracked in three pieces creating an echoing reverberation. He pointed at Samantha and Martin. "If your people do anything, ALL OF YOU ARE DEAD!"

"If they can't get a hold of you, they're going to…." Martin began but was cut off.

"Do you think I care what they are going to do!" he screamed. "They are not in control; I am!" He patted his chest to indicate his power and control over the situation.

Anthony, then, went around to each person and talked to them quietly. They tried to listen in, but it proved impossible.

Samantha couldn't believe this. She had spent the last month fulfilling Greg's every desire to erase the crater size hole in her heart. And here she was, while trying to get something for Greg for Christmas, she had ended up spending her day with a madman. But she was only fooling herself. Greg could not possibly have erased Martin from her memory. She just suppressed it. She mentally kicked herself for coming the bank.

As Martin's eyes watched over Samantha, he realized that no matter how hard he tried, he could not shut off his brain. His heart reached out to her as of the words he had so heartlessly told her came to mind. It was true: At first, he felt guilty and wished he could take it back. But now, it was different. It's as if he wanted to give his own life to take back the words that he said. Martin snapped his head away to prevent himself from staring at her.

An overweight man, who was sitting up against the wall, began to flail; it was obvious that he was getting restless. "It's extremely hot in here," he said waving his hand in front of his face. His shirt began to absorb sweat.

"Shut up," Anthony hissed. Anthony was leaning against the wall doing nothing pertinent. He seemed cocky as if he was allowing everybody to wrestle with their consciences. He wanted everybody to calculate their own fate. He stared strongly at his gun, analyzing it.

The African American man straightened his posture. "He's right," he agreed.

Samantha had to agree with the men. She began to take her coat off leaving a thin, long sleeve T-shirt.

Anthony ran to the overweight man and pointed the gun right between his eyes. He curled his lips and made a sound that resembled a gun firing. "If I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it."

The man started to sweat heavier. He threw his hands up in surrender. "Okay, I'm sorry," he pleaded.

Anthony laughed and turned around all in one move. "You people think that this is a joke? Let me remind you all that I have the gun here; I am in control."

Martin concentrated his attention on Samantha. He leaned in and whispered, "Think Sam. Do you recognize him?"

Samantha began to fidget. She didn't know; she was second guessing herself, beating herself up for not knowing what this man wanted with her. _Why doesn't he just do what he has planned? _she thought. It was driving her insane. She turned to Martin. "I don't know," she said in a whisper.

"Sam…we really need you to focus." He was referring to the nine hostages.

Samantha glared at him. He was irritating her. He was acting like it was all her fault. "I'm trying, okay?" she said with an irate voice.

Martin caught on and immediately backed down. He didn't mean to make her to get angry. He didn't mean to pressure her. He felt horrible. He wanted to do something, but too much time had passed between his thoughts and Samantha's outburst. It would be pointless.

The three year old began to get disinterested with the book that her mother provided her. "Mommy, I'm hungry," the little girl said in a sweet voice. She looked to her mother with wide eyes.

Her mother squeezed her tighter. "I know, Sweetie. I know." She rested her cheek on her daughter's head and tenderly caressed her arm.

The little girl started to howl. She threw herself on the ground and began to kick and scream. Tears trailed their way down her chubby, rosy cheeks. She was a toddler who was used to getting what she wanted when she cried. It was the way babies were programmed. She was too young to understand the situation and the consequences that might accompany her tantrum.

"Mindy, be quiet. Please, for mommy," the mother begged. She reached down and tried to grab a hold of her daughter, but the little girl proved to be too slippery.

Mindy rolled over creating a gap between her and her mother. She made a mad dash to the door, to food. Mindy was an astute child, just like her mother. She knew what she wanted, and she was going to get it.

The sound of Mindy's screaming caught everybody's attention, especially Anthony. He reacted as if she was the FBI with the cavalry. He immediately lifted his gun and fixed it on the small child. His face contorted into pure evil; it resembled the look Anthony had when he murdered the man who was entering the bank.

Samantha stiffened. She watched as Anthony's face contorted into evil. She began to rise, slowly but surely. Her heart pumped with adrenaline. She watched in horror as Anthony's grip on the gun got tighter.

By now, Mindy's mother had her wrapped up in her arms with her back to Anthony, willing to die for her daughter. The mother cried with fear as she rubbed a now calm Mindy.

Everybody watched as Samantha made a mad dash to Anthony. Her arms were extended out ready to pounce. Samantha didn't even slow down when she neared Anthony. She plowed right into him just as he pressed the trigger. The stray bullet shot into the ceiling. Anthony landed hard on the ground with a loud bang. He was shocked and caught off guard.

Samantha stood above Anthony resting her hands on her knees, thankful that Mindy and her mother were still breathing. She was trying to catch her breath as Anthony fixed his gaze on Samantha followed by his gun.

Anthony stood up never taking the gun off of Samantha. He was pissed, and it was obvious. He didn't say anything, though. It was as if he was stalking her. He looked like he was willing to do anything including killing the person who was his target.

**XxX**

**There's chapter four. I hope you enjoyed it. I won't update if I don't get reviews. **


	5. Revealed Past

_Thanks to all who reviewed...I appreciate it!_

**Chapter five**

**-Revealed Past-**

As soon as the gun was trained on Samantha, Martin stood up and rushed over to her side. He looked at Samantha who had a mixture of fear and sadness in her eyes. He used his hands for emphasis as he said, "calm down. You can't shot her. You need her." His eyes pleaded with Anthony to lower his gun.

"You don't need them," Samantha added. "I'm the one you want. Let them go and take me."

Martin wanted to slap Samantha for saying that. Anthony looked like he was actually considering it.

"If you don't talk to them," Samantha said pointing to the door. "Then they will send SWAT in here."

Anthony made a grunting noise. He lowered his gun and said considerately, "perhaps you're right." He looked around to his nine hostages. He waved his hand towards the door as he said, "well… what are you all waiting for?"

Everybody except for Martin and Samantha ran to the door, laughing and smiling. After a half-an-hour of torture, they were finally free.

Martin knew he should leave, but he was hesitant to leave without Samantha. He just stood there, unmoving. Then Anthony put the gun to his chest. Right then, he knew he had to leave or be shot, but what Anthony said shocked him.

"You're staying here with your girlfriend."

Martin was puzzled. _Why does he want me to stay_? Nothing about this guy made sense; he was all over the place.

Samantha rolled her eyes and allowed a small sigh to slip from her lips. Anthony was still calling her Martin's girlfriend. She was irritated, but she wasn't going to show it.

Anthony walked over to a chair and sat down. He put his hands in his lap and stared at Samantha and Martin. He was analyzing them, trying to decide what to do next.

Samantha turned to Martin. She flashed him a warm smile that carried appreciation.

Martin received Samantha's subtle yet effective message and smiled back at her.

Then Anthony stood up from his chair. He walked over to the pair. "Are you guys scared yet?" he asked. "Nervous?" He stared at Samantha and Martin intently. He saw that they were more puzzled than scared. He decided to fix that. He reached out and grabbed Martin by the arm. He held the gun to his head. "Move," he grunted.

Samantha's heart caught in her chest. What was he doing?

Anthony led Martin to the opposite side of the bank. He shoved him on the ground and pulled out some duct tape from his pocket. He bent down and violently forced Martin's arms together causing Martin to moan. Anthony began to wrap the silver tape around Martin's wrists preventing him from freeing himself. Then he did the same thing for Martin's ankles.

Samantha grew more apprehensive as Anthony turned and walked to her. He had a plan for her; she knew it. Her palms started to sweat as her heart pumped twice as much blood than normal.

Anthony stopped short of Samantha. He turned around and faced Martin. "Are you sure you don't remember me?" He pointed to himself.

Martin's brain began to register that he was talking to him. He thought Anthony was somebody from Samantha's past. He thought he was talking to Samantha when he asked that question the first time. Then Martin realized that he was looking at him when he asked it. He felt stupid; they were in this predicament because of him, not Samantha. Samantha was just a pawn in Anthony's twisted mind. He felt horrible; his head began to spin. He began to mentally beat himself up. He racked his brain to pull out a memory of Anthony, but it was blank. He shook his head, interested in what his next move was.

Anthony turned back to Samantha. He gave her a devilish grin before holding the gun to her head.

Samantha cringed. She begged for her life with her eyes.

"No!" Martin shouted. "I don't remember you. Why don't you just tell me who you are?"

Anthony considered his proposition for a minute. He cocked his head to the side. "You know, you're right. I would like to be home at a decent time." He looked to Samantha to see the fear that had manifested. He loved it; this was nothing more than a game to Anthony. He loved playing games. He turned to Martin. "Olivia Broadman," he said with a flat voice. His eyes peaked out at Martin in an unusual angle.

Martin stopped. He remembered her; he remembered her all too well. He knew her. He met her in college, and one day, she never came home.

Samantha saw the look in Martin's eyes. They filled with sadness as tears collected in his eyes. Samantha felt sad. What was so horrible about the name Olivia Broadman? Why does Martin's past have to come back to haunt him? She hated Anthony more than somebody should be hated.

"What about her?" Martin's voice cracked though he tried to sound serene. He prayed that the tears that pricked his eyes remained stubborn.

"The man you arrested for her death is set to die tomorrow!" he hissed.

Olivia was gorgeous. She had golden locks that hung in curls down her back. Her hazel eyes sparkled every time she looked at Martin. She was short, but she had a lot to offer. She was caring and compassionate. Her smile made everybody in the room light up. She was respectful to everybody. She wasn't that good in the kitchen, and she wasn't the neatest person in the world. Olivia's aura radiated off of her capturing everybody's essence.

And then one day, she didn't come home from work. Martin remembered the feeling he felt that night when Olivia failed to come home. It was desperation and fear. It wasn't until a few weeks later did he find out that she had been found dead. She was thrown in a corn field, exposed and damaged. Olivia was strong: She had lasted four days of continuously being raped and beaten only to succumb to her killer's death grip.

Silent tears rolled down Martin's cheeks. He licked his lips. He lowered his eyes so that Samantha could not see the hurt and pain in his eyes. "I still don't understand," he said in a low whisper. He uncomfortably shifted his body to no avail.

Samantha's interest intensified with each word that the men said ignoring the gun pointed to her. She was confused. Martin's reaction to the name Olivia Broadman caused a lot of emotional pain to bubble to the surface. She wanted to know who she was and why she seemed so important to Martin. "Martin, who's Olivia?" she asked in a sweat voice. Her face was soft.

Martin didn't say anything. He counted the number of tiles laminated on the bank's floor with his eyes. He refused to meet Samantha's gaze. He didn't want to see the sympathy and pity that overwhelmed her beautiful eyes.

Anthony stared at Martin keeping his shaky hand firmly pointed to Samantha. His mouth grew wide. "You didn't tell your girlfriend?" he said sarcastically. He dropped his arm and strode to Martin, stopping a few inches away from him. "How could you? Why don't you tell her?" When Martin continued to stare at the floor he added, "oh come on, Martin."

Samantha couldn't hear what Anthony was saying.

Martin still refused to open his mouth. He was trying to drown out the situation.

Anthony ran over to Samantha with his gun resting at his side. He dug his grubby hands through Samantha's soft hair and latched on. He forced her head backwards using her hair as a lever to pull down. "Tell her," he threatened.

Samantha felt like crying, not only because of the pain but because of Martin's pain. He looked so vulnerable and weak. It was something that Samantha never thought she would ever see.

Martin stared at Samantha before beginning. Anthony's threat immediately made Martin open up. It was hard for him to start. "Olivia…was my…fiancée," he said with a deep breath. He didn't look at Samantha. He didn't want to see the look of hurt and betrayal displayed in her eyes. "Ten years ago, she was kidnapped. I racked my brain trying to find her, but her abductor killed her after raping her numerous times."

Samantha didn't know what to feel. She had thought she had known everything about Martin. She thought that he would never hide anything remotely this traumatic. Then again, she hide many secretes and feelings from him. She realized that she couldn't be mad; she had no right.

"That's right," Anthony said, still holding onto Samantha's hair. "And who did you arrest?"

"Adam Larson."

Anthony's hand fell to his side. He stepped around Samantha. "Adam Larson," he reiterated. "Do you know who he is?" There was no reply, so he continued. "He is my brother, and he's innocent."

"No, he isn't," Martin insisted. He looked up at Anthony with a blank face. "His DNA matched the semen. There was a witness that saw him take her. He had no alibi. He had a record of tempted rape and rape. We had evidence that…"

"Shut up!" Anthony interrupted. The amount of evidence that Martin was expelling out of his mouth inundated Anthony. "Now, you will call whoever you have to, but you will tell them that my brother is innocent." He handed Martin his cell phone. "He will not die tomorrow."

Martin took it but did nothing with it except hold it in his hot hands. "I can't do that."

"You can't or you won't?"

Martin lifted his head for the first time in a short while refusing to look at Samantha. He breathed hard before saying, "both."

Anthony began to scream with anger. He started pacing the room. He angrily reached his left hand up and knocked down some brochures creating a loud crash. For the first time, he seemed distressed. He brought his left hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then with an abrupt burst of energy, Anthony latched onto Samantha's waist. He began to pull her towards the door.

Samantha's eyes grew with fear as the man who had a gun to her head led her to the door.

"You get my brother off of death row. If not, she's dead," Anthony threatened. He slowly but tranquilly stalked his way to the door. With one swift move, he opened the door alarming the umpteenth cops and SWAT members that surrounded the bank. He turned to Martin and said, "We'll be in touch."

Martin sat alone in the bank, tied up. He couldn't see beyond the confine of the walls. He could only listen. His mind's eye began to go over wonderful memories of his and Olivia's life. He missed her. He wanted nothing more than be with her. Olivia reminded him so much of Samantha; which is, perhaps, the reason he adored Samantha the first time he saw her. Suddenly, he was jerked from his thoughts when he heard Anthony yelling.

"Back away or she's dead!"

This was impossible. How could Adam Larson cause so much pain in his life? First it was Olivia. And now, because of Adam, Anthony had Samantha, threatening to kill her. The same feeling of being overwhelmed and a feeling of loss washed over him. He had met these feelings before. They were something he was all too familiar with. He began to squirm to escape his binds, but he was unrewarded.

Meanwhile, Samantha struggled to escape Anthony's death grip. He was using her as a human shield, so that the police wouldn't dare fire.

"Just put the gun down," Jack shouted. He, Danny, Vivian, Elena, SWAT, and many other police officers and agents surrounded the bank with their guns drawn.

"I need a car!" he shouted. "Or the girl's dead!" He looked down at the body covered by a thin sheet for emphasis. "Don't think I won't do it!"

The team knew he wasn't lying. There was nothing they could do. If Anthony pulled the trigger and killed Samantha, he would be dead too, but Anthony wouldn't care. He was antisocial, willing to do anything.

Samantha's eye flashed at the team. She was scared; there was no doubt about that. She was concerned for her life. She saw what this guy could do. He had the ability to react without thinking. Samantha's blood rushed through her veins at a rate thought unfeasible. Her breathing became heavier as the realization that she could die popped into her head.

Anthony picked up the pace, dragging his victim with him. He spotted a black car resting to his left with the door open and the keys in the ignition.

Everybody kept their guns trained on Anthony, but they didn't do anything with them. SWAT didn't have a clean shot so killing him was implausible. They all watched helplessly as Anthony shoved Samantha in the car. The precocious man quickly slid into the driver's seat. He sped off down an expedient alley.

Inside, Martin heard the sound of screeching tires slowly being drowned out by silence.

**XxX**

**Hope you liked it. I need reviews before I continue.**


	6. When He Speaks

**Chapter six**

**-When He Speaks-**

"What did he say?" Jack asked.

Martin stood outside of the bank. He watched as the News crews swarmed the caution tape that blocked everybody's entrance to the bank; their cameras were fixed on newscasters. The hostage situation and Samantha's abduction caused quite a media frenzy.

Martin sighed. In order to find Samantha, he would have to tell the whole team about his fiancée. It was something he would have rather buried for the rest of his life. "When I was 25, I was engaged to Olivia Broadman. She was abducted and found murdered. I arrested a guy named Adam Larson. Anthony is his brother. He wants me to get his brother off of death row or Samantha's dead." He lowered his eyes not wanting to see Jack's reaction to his secrete past.

"How long do we have?" Jack said giving a sigh. His voice was full of annoyance and aggravation. He chose to ignore Martin's past and focus on it later.

Martin put his head down. He wanted to run. "I'm not sure what time Adam is going to die, but Anthony said that he was going to die tomorrow." He felt helpless. Samantha's life depended on him, and all he could come up with were a few messily details.

Jack sighed and stared at the assortment of pink, orange, and purple swirling in the sky as the sun settled down behind the buildings. "Are you kidding me? We have less than twenty-four hours to find Sam." His annoyance grew with each minute.

Martin sighed. "Yeah." He fidgeted with his hands. "Look Jack, I know this isn't your fault; it's mine, and I'm sorry." Martin couldn't believe that this was happening. How could this happen?

Jack snapped his head up and stared at Martin and sighed. His face was softer now. "No, it's not your fault. You had no idea. So how does he know if you stopped it?"

"I don't know. He said that we'll be in touch," Martin shrugged.

"We'll need to put a trace on your phone."

"Right."

"We'll try to get Larson's death postponed, but I doubt we can do that. So for now, we'll have to tell Anthony what he wants to hear."

Martin gave a weak smile.

Vivian stepped up beside the men. "There's an APB out on the car."

Martin sighed with conviction. This provided little comfort, but it was something to hold onto.

Suddenly an African American woman approached the three. "Hey Jack, do you want to give a statement?"

Jack sighed and took a step towards her. "Yes, Delia, I would." The pair walked over to the news camera together.

Martin listened to the radio that came from one of the police cars that surrounded him.

Jack took his position behind a podium that was housed in front of a plethora of paparazzi and news cameras. "I'm Special Agent Jack Malone, head of the New York office of the FBI Missing Persons Unit. The abduction of Special Agent Samantha Spade has been taken very seriously. We have consulted with the necessary people to ensure that Adam Larson is released from death row. In doing this, we hope that Agent Spade's abductor will release her."

Martin turned to Vivian and gave her a nervous look. This could profoundly backfire. Not only will they have one more dead inmate but also a dead agent. Martin looked distressed; he knew it was his fault. He had broken Samantha's heart, and now she was in danger because of him.

XxX

Wild plants and trees grew all around. Many animals used these plants and trees as a means for survival. The myriad of different species that lived in the woods were not used to human sightings. So when a black, FBI car came barreling down the dirt road, all the creatures scattered.

Set dead in the center of the Red Forest Woods was a tiny cottage made of log. It was peaceful. It had only one room and one bathroom; they were small rooms adequately designed for one person. The kitchen and living room was separated by a counter with the stove and oven. All the furniture was covered by thin, white sheets to prevent the furniture from gathering dust. The cottage smelt of old cedar, and it had been abandoned when the supply of food ran out.

Now, the cottage's vacancy was disturbed by a short, muscular man and a skinny blonde. Outside was a black, FBI car that came barreling down the road a few short minutes ago.

Anthony forced Samantha to sit on a wooden chair. He bound her ankles to the chair and duct taped her hands behind the back of the chair.

Anthony sat on the couch with a radio fixed next to him, waiting for news of his brother. There was a gun in his hand ready to train it on Samantha if need be.

"You'll never get away with this," Samantha said bitterly. "Your life is over."

"Shut up!"

Samantha jumped at the sound of Anthony's booming voice, but she wasn't going to give up. "Why don't you just let me go?"

Anthony glared at Samantha. He looked like he was going to lose his composure; but instead, he took a deep breath and counted the dust particles. "My brother spent his entire life making sure I was safe," he began. "My dad was a pitiful loser who drank constantly. He beat everybody in the household every day. Adam always stood up for me. He got the worst of the beatings. I love him; I can't lose him now. You're the key to letting my brother live."

Somewhere deep down in Samantha's heart, she felt sorry for his sad life when he grew up. But her childhood wasn't full of happiness and love either. He was playing the victim, and he was using her to get what he wanted. "So what? You think because you had a lousy childhood you can use it as justification for your violent crimes? I got news for you; you are not the only person in the world who has had a horrible childhood." Anger rose in Samantha's voice as she gave Anthony the intervention he needed.

But Anthony didn't see it that way. He rotated his tongue into his cheek. He made it to Samantha with two giant steps and slapped her across the face. "You don't know me!"

Samantha's head snapped back to an unusual position. Her cracked lip began to trickle blood, but she wasn't going to moan with pain. The only thing she did was stare at him evilly. Then she heard Jack's voice coming from the radio.

Anthony's head cocked back as he ran to the radio. He practically hugged it as he brought his ear up against the speaker.

When Jack finished his spiel, Anthony started to jump up and down with glee. He pulled out his phone and began to dial.


	7. Escape?

**Chapter seven**

**-Escape?-**

The loud ring caused Martin to jump. He was languidly sitting at his desk deciphering the computer screen. He reached in his jacket pocket and grabbed his cell phone. "Fitzgerald?" Exhaustion and worry was dripping from his mouth.

"Hey, Martin, you're a good man. I have to be honest, but I didn't think that you could pull it off. I knew you wouldn't let anything bad happen to Samantha," Anthony said. He was laughing.

Martin's body tensed up. He felt like his heart dropped to his stomach as it began to beat twice as fast. He sat at the edge of his chair, fully erect. "So, are you going to let Sam go?" he inquired.

"Well, yes of course. I made a deal didn't I? I'll call you back in an hour," Anthony said.

Martin stuttered. "Wait…let me talk to Samantha."

"No."

"Please, Anthony. I just want to know if she's alright." He waited on the phone. The other end grew silent. "Anthony, I need to talk to her," he said in an authoritative voice.

"Hello?" Samantha said. Her voice sounded shaky but strong.

Martin never felt so happy in his life before. Hearing her voice was like having all the money in the world. "Sam, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Samantha said.

The sound of Samantha's voice made Martin cringe. He knew she was lying. He wanted to be with her, to protect her. He had been feeling very guilty about what he told Samantha and even worse about her situation. He cared about her, and he knew that he had hurt her. He lowered his voice. "Where are you?"

"In the Red Fo…" Samantha said but was cut off.

Martin heard Samantha scream followed by what sounded like skin slapping skin. He became anxious and helpless; he wanted to hold her and protect her. Anger filled his heart. "If you touch her, then I swear to God that I will…"

"You'll what? Yell at me? I have your girlfriend. I'm in control, not you," Anthony yelled so that he could be heard over Martin's eruption.

Martin heard the steady beeping of the dial tone. He immediately ran up to the team who was gathered around their desks. "Anthony called me."

Danny shot up from his seat. "What did he say?"

"He said that he was going to let her go."

"Yeah right," Elena said. "He doesn't seem the type to follow through with his promises."

Martin looked to the ground. "Samantha said that she was in the Red something, but Anthony pulled the phone back. I don't know what she said."

Martin couldn't believe this. Samantha didn't deserve this especially not because of him. His heart churned in his chest creating a sting that disseminated throughout his body. He had spent the hours since the hostage situation trying to convince himself that he no longer wanted Samantha in his life other than being a friend. He didn't love her; it was unfeasible. He only cared for her, deeply.

"Let's just see what we can recover from tech," Jack said. He and Martin made their way to the tech room.

"Looks like he called from the Red Forest Woods," Lucy explained a few minutes later.

"Where's that?" Martin asked.

"I don't know. You two weren't on the phone long enough to get an exact location."

Martin sighed. He knew that he had to be on the phone for at least 2 minutes. Why was he so stupid?

Jack looked to all of his team mates. Then he looked outside. "It's too dark right now. We'll have to go first thing when the sun rises."

XxX

Samantha's jaw was hurting. He has slapped the same area twice. She rotated her jaw so that the pain would ease up.

Samantha began to wiggle. She was working at the emaciated duct tape with her finger nails. She wasn't sure if she was getting anywhere, but she had to try.

"I can't believe that you tried to give up our location. It would have ruined everything." Anthony paced in front of Samantha, gripping the gun tightly.

Samantha smiled. "That was the plan."

Anthony was about to hit Samantha again. He was tired of her sarcastic remarks that made up Samantha's personality. He raised his hand but thought better of it. Hitting her wasn't going to make her stop. Then he stopped and said, "I'm going to take a leak."

Samantha's eyes followed Anthony as he went into the bathroom and closed the door. Her fingers began to work harder and faster to tear the duct tape. And with one jolt of her wrist, the tape gave away. At first Samantha stared at her red wrists for a second. Then she thought fast. She reached down and unwrapped the tape around her ankles. Without reservation, she sprinted to the door. When she placed her hand on the door knob, she heard the toilet flush. She suddenly became overcome with fear. When she opened the door, the night air exposed her to the bitter cold. Small patches of snow were still on the ground indicating that the temperature was nowhere near warm. The little hairs that covered Samantha's body began to stick straight up as the frost bit at her body. She wished she hadn't taken her coat off in the bank.

The thick blanket of darkness proved to be both against and for Samantha. She couldn't see anything, but that also meant that Anthony couldn't see anything either. She could hide easily. She ran to the woods using the moon as the only source of light. She maneuvered herself through the trees. It was impossible for her to go fast.

"Where are you?" she heard Anthony roar. "There is no escape! There's nobody around for miles! You're trap, just come back to me, and I'll take you back home!"

Samantha's brain registered that as long as she could prevent it, she was never going to back to Anthony willingly. As Samantha made her way through the woods, she continuously snagged her skin on bushes, shrubs, and trees. Tiny drops of blood trickled from each wound. Her fear made each wound go unnoticed. Her heart raced as she ran. She had goose bumps, and she was extremely cold. She ran with her hands extended out in front of her to feel for any obstacle that might jump out at her.

The woods were silent. The only thing she could hear was the sound of her heart beating. She didn't even hear Anthony. She didn't know how far she had ran or how long. But her legs were burning with protest. Her lungs were on fire because of her continuously heavy breathing. She decided to stop. She found a ravine covered with thick, heavy bushes. Samantha slowly walked down trying to grab onto anything she could but nothing was prominent. She ended up catching her foot on an uprooted root of a tree. She fell to the ground and rolled down the ravine, resting in a pile of bushes and leaves at the bottom.

She wasn't hurt; she just added a few more scratches and bruises to her already outrageous collection. Her main concern was that the amount of noise that she created was going to give her whereabouts away. So she lay there, unmoving, afraid to breath. The bushes, leaves, and darkness were a good enough cover.

The night was impossible; it was full with uncertainty. Sleep never came. Fear controlled every somatic and autonomic function in her body. With every bristle of the plants, Samantha's eye became vigilant. The sound of animals scurrying also maintained Samantha's concentration.

After a while, Samantha couldn't feel anything. Her whole body was numb because of the relentless pounding of the cold on her body. She was curled up in the fetal position, maintaining her warmth that way; however, it wasn't very effective. Her body shivered and her lips were blue. If hypothermia didn't kill her then Anthony would.

The night dragged on; until, finally, the first light broke. It wasn't much, but the sun provided Samantha with the necessary warmth that the night had plagued on her fragile, petite frame. She waited until the sun was higher in the sky before she moved. With her stiff, frozen body, the task of crawling out of the ravine proved more dangerous than she had originally thought. With every tiny step she took closer to the top of the ravine, the rotated her head 365 degrees scanning for any sign of Anthony. When the coast was clear, she took another tiny step.

When she reached the top and uncurled her body, the bitter cold ate at her flesh. She crossed her arms around her chest. She suddenly thought that she should have stayed down in the ravine. She realized that the ravine was blocking the wind, and now her body was exposed to all the aliments. But if she wanted to get out of her situation, she would have to brave the cold and start walking. She didn't take a step without looking around her to see if Anthony was there.

Samantha was exhausted, and with nothing to nourish her, she was weak. But if she wanted to live, then she would have to push herself. She wrapped her arms tighter around her body and carefully walked through the forest. With no idea where she was and a murderer looking for her, Samantha felt that she would need a miracle to get out of here.

**XxX**

**I'm not sure how frequently I'll be updating. I have to go home for the holidays because we aren't allowed to stay in the dorms. I don't have internet at home. But if I'm motivated by all of your reviews, then I'll figure something out and update. **

**Merry Christmas!!!**


	8. Surprise

**Chapter one**

**-Surprise-**

The sun was bright but provided little warmth. Martin hugged himself for a few moments. He looked around at the trees that lined him. He sighed. Samantha was in there somewhere. It was his job to find her.

There were many people looking for Anthony and his victim. They had three search parties, each led by two members of the FBI agents followed by four police officers.

Martin and Vivian led their team through the woods. They carefully scanned their eyes for Anthony and Samantha. After what seemed like hours of searching, the team found themselves standing in the middle of a dirt road. Fresh tire tracks neatly covered the road.

Martin turned to look up the road. He turned back to Vivian and said, "Where there's a road, there's most likely a building," Martin said.

Fear danced around in Martin's stomach as the team followed the road, and when they rounded the corner, Martin theory was proved correct. There was a peaceful cottage sitting in front of them. The stolen FBI car sat in front of the cottage waiting for somebody to turn the key.

All six members of the team drew their guns and pointed them to the ground. They carefully but slowly stalked their way to the cottage placing themselves so that the occupants inside could not see them. Martin slowly whipped his head around and peered through a window. He was shocked what he saw. He saw Anthony pacing the cottage. He looked as if he'd just seen a ghost. He was puzzled and distressed. His gun was resting on one of the chairs that had duct tape tied to it. But Anthony's well-being wasn't on Martin's mind. The first thing he noticed was that Samantha was not there.

Martin's heart dropped. The possible images flashed through his mind. He was sure she was dead. It was something that he couldn't bare.

Martin, Vivian, and a police officer made their way to the front door while the other three covered the back. After counting to three, Martin kicked the door in. The door instantly gave away and swung in catching Anthony off guard.

Anthony didn't have time to react; he was too far away from his gun anyway. He was cuffed within a few seconds.

The police officer held Anthony in place as Martin and Vivian questioned him.

"Where is she?" Martin asked. Fear bordered him. He was afraid to hear the answer.

As soon as Anthony knew he was caught, he surrendered. He tired to bring his hands up but was retrained. "I don't know."

Martin wanted to beat him. He envisioned Samantha's body lying in the cold weather just like Olivia. Martin stepped up closer to him so that Anthony could feel his breath on his skin. "I'm only going to ask you once more. Where is she?" He was petrified of the answer, but he had to know.

Anthony suddenly became very nervous. "I don't know; she ran away."

Martin felt relief wash over him. He should have known she escaped. She was astute at everything and witty. She was strong, just like Olivia. But now there was a new fear. It was cold outside; the sun was going down which means that the temperature was going to drop around twenty degrees. He knew that she didn't have her coat; she left it in the bank. He didn't know if she had any food or water; it was highly unlikely. Martin turned to the door. "Let's go. We have to find Sam."

The team made a mad dash to the meeting spot. Martin radioed the other six teams and told them to meet them. It actually turned out that Martin came back last. It had something to do with having to drag Anthony through the woods.

Once Anthony was on his way to jail, Martin turned to the only remaining people: the team. "Okay, let's go before it gets dark," he said.

Elena looked up to the sky. The sun had practically disappeared behind the tall trees. There was only faint light providing a limited viewing range. She looked to the ground. "Martin, look at the sky," she raised her hands. "It's too dark."

Martin looked around. "Oh," he said. "But she'll die out here. Anthony said she escaped last night which means this will be the second night she's been out here." Martin was desperate. He looked like he was about to pout.

Danny stared at him, smiling. He had seen this face before. It was the face he wore for a while but stopped for a month. Now, everything made sense. "You're in love."

Martin almost fell backwards. He wasn't in love; he couldn't be in love. Right? He was just worried about her. He had spent the last month trying to forget about her, trying to forget her smell, her smile, and her warmth. He thought he succeeded until he went to the bank. Now, old feelings that never really died came back to haunt him. Now, he realized that he was in love with Samantha Spade.

The complete lack of answer made Danny smile. He knew the answer; it was true. He had always known deep down that Martin and Samantha were seeing each other.

The rest of the team was all shocked at first, especially Jack.

Elena gave Martin a sheepish grin. Then she looked back to the sky. "Okay, I think we should go."

Jack was shocked. He had no idea that Samantha was seeing Martin. In a way, it hurt. He looked up at everybody before saying, "We'll stick in two teams. Martin, Elena, and Danny go that way," he said pointing behind them. "Viv and I will go this way." He pointed to their side. "She'll probably be in bad shape."

All five of them found a flashlight and headed for the tree line. Their lights were held out in front of them as they carefully navigated their way around obstacles.

"Sam!" Martin called.

No answer.

"Samantha!" he repeated.

No answer.

He, Martin, and Elena ventured deeper into the woods. Flashlights were scanning the ground looking for signs of Samantha.

Martin couldn't believe this. Samantha had escaped a murderer only to be thrown in the depths of Mother Nature. She couldn't get a break.

The wind howled through the trees making their branches shimmer. Martin pulled his jacket closer to him. He was cold. The thought of Samantha being in this weather without a coat kept him and everybody else going.

They made their way through the woods, uncertainly plagued their conscience. There wasn't an arrow saying that they should go this way. All that guided them was their sense of direction and the hope of finding Samantha.

The moon was high in the sky. The team trekked their way through the woods being careful not to get lost themselves. They continued to yell Samantha's name, but she never answered. Hope was fading with each hour. They were tired; their legs refused to work. Their eyes felt like lead, but the team kept venturing deeper into the woods. Finding Samantha was their driving force.

Martin scanned the surrounded area with his flashlight, looking for something that yielded a clue to where Samantha was. There was nothing. Martin glanced at his phone to look at the time. It was a little bit after one. "Merry Christmas," he announced to everybody.

"This is hopeless," Danny said. He was so exhausted that his body was slowly becoming dysfunctional. He wanted to find Samantha, but the circumstances were against them.

Martin wanted to ague, but he couldn't. He agreed.

"Maybe, we should head back," Danny suggested.

Martin sighed. Danny was right, but he wasn't sure if he was willing to allow Samantha to stay another night in the cold.

As the two men bickered, Elena stepped away from the group claiming that she heard something. But when her ears extended to the environment, the only sound she heard was the sound of the wind howling. She listened suspiciously, wary of the sound. Then she heard it again. It was subtle, but it was there. She didn't know what it was, but it sounded human in nature. She turned around and raised her hands to shush the men.

Martin and Danny turned to look at her with a quizzical look.

"What?" Danny asked.

Elena brought her pointer finger to her lips. "Shhh…"

The men listened to her. The immediately stopped their antics and listened to the woods. Then, they heard it, too. They didn't know what it was either, but it sounded beautiful. If it was Samantha, then she was alive.

"Sam!" Martin called. When there was no reply, he called for her again. But there was no reply.

"Samantha!" Elena tried. There was still no answer.

Danny pointed to their right. "It's coming from there."

They strutted to their right, calling out for Samantha. They flashed their lights violently through the plants looking for a body.

Suddenly, they heard the bristling of a bush. They turned their attention to the bush praying it wasn't an angry animal. But when Samantha stepped out from behind the bush, they saw a vulnerable human.

Samantha's lips were blue, but her face was pale. She was cold; all one had to do was look at her, and they would know. Her lip was cracked. Her jeans and shirt was ripped a multitude of times. She had minor scratches covering her body.

Martin wanted to reach out to her and grab her, but he couldn't; she wasn't his.

Instead, Elena ran to her and wrapped her arms around her. "Oh, chica," she said rubbing her to create friction and heat.

Samantha frowned. "I thought that I would never get out of there."

Everybody laughed as they made their way back to the campsite.

Martin watched Samantha. She was smiling, but shivers were racking her body. She was happy, though. Martin took off his jacket and handed it to Samantha.

Samantha stared at it for a beat. She turned her attention to Martin and smiled warmly. She reached out her hand and grabbed it. "Thank you," she said catching his eye. She tore herself away from Elena's grip and put it on.

Martin pretended not to be cold. He was shivering, and he had to concentrate on not allowing his teeth to chatter. But he didn't care. Samantha was found, and she was okay.

When Samantha was securely placed in the ambulance, Martin finally relaxed. He knew for sure that she was safe. He watched as the EMT's poked and probed Samantha's body, cleaning up all of her cuts.

"Why are you standing here?" a familiar voice came.

Martin turned around to find Danny standing next to him. He smiled.

"You love her. Go after her."

Martin considered it. He looked to Samantha and saw her smiling at something the EMT said. Even when she was in pain and near death, Samantha was smiling. She was strong. He made a step towards her but stopped, trying to convince himself to go farther. It took a little bit of coaching on Danny's part to get Martin's feet moving, but Martin, eventually, put one foot in front of the other.

"Hey," he said as he climbed in the ambulance. "Mind if I ride with you?"

Samantha was nervous. Martin was making it extremely hard to let Samantha fallout of love with him. But for some reason, she couldn't say no. "Sure," she smiled.

Martin graciously stepped up in to the ambulance. He took a seat next to her. "How are you?" he asked. He tapped his foot.

The sirens on the ambulance wailed to life as it made its way to the hospital.

"I've been better," she stated.

There was silence.

"So, did you catch Anthony?" Samantha asked.

"Yeah."

Silence, again.

Samantha fidgeted on her gurney. She looked to the ground and refused to look at Martin. "I'm sorry about Olivia," she said. She looked in to his soft, warm eyes. "I had no idea."

Martin gazed back at her. "I loved her, and I still do. But I've moved on," he said slowly.

Samantha smiled.

The ambulance was silent the rest of the way to the hospital.

XxX

Samantha sat in a hospital room. She had bandages covering the deeper wounds. She had narrowly escaped hypothermia and death. She stared at Martin with wide eyes. "There is no way that's possible," she laughed.

Martin fixed himself so that the chair he sat in was propped up next to Samantha's bed. He mimicked Samantha's behavior and laughed. "I swear to God, I did."

Then abruptly the laughter stopped. They stared at each other, intently.

"Martin?" Samantha whispered; her voice was full of sadness. Her eyes were full of trepidation and apprehension. She wanted to tear her eyes away from his, but she needed to see his reaction. "Do you really think that I'm nothing but trouble and hard work?"

Martin's eyes went wide with fear. He immediately stood up from his seat and stepped closer to the bed. He slipped his hand underneath Samantha's right hand and placed the other on top of her hand. With his thumb, he gently rubbed soft circles on her knuckles. He stared in her eyes. "When I said that, I wanted nothing more than to take it back, but I refused to apologize for breaking up with you. I tried to go on thinking that you didn't matter to me. But when we were trapped in the bank, the only thing I thought about was your well-being. And then, when Anthony took you, I thought that I would never see you again." He stared at her. The fear and anxiety was replaced with soft, hollowed out eyes. "That scared me. It was then that I realized that I love you."

Samantha felt her heart warm. He loved her. Martin loved her. She wasn't expecting that, not from Martin anyway. She wondered what that meant for them. She wanted to kiss him but thought better of it. She opened her mouth to say something when a familiar man appeared in the doorway. He carried an array of different colored balloons that read, "Get well soon."

"Sam, there you are," Greg said racing to Samantha's side. He stared at the balloons hoping Samantha would accept them.

Martin released his grip on Samantha's hand and jumped back, confusion written all over his face. "Who are you?"

"I'm her boyfriend." Greg stepped towards Martin and offered his hand.

Samantha stared at Martin to see his hurt reaction.

Martin stared at Greg's hand, his face, and Samantha. Samantha looked upset. She cocked her head to the side and frowned. He looked back at Greg before finally reaching out his hand. He hated feeling the hand that comforted Samantha. It was supposed to be him. "I'm Martin," he croaked.

Greg's mouth opened wide with happiness. "You're the one who saved Sam. Danny and Elena told me that you refused to give up the search." Greg smile grew wider; a twinkle appeared in his eye. "Thanks for saving my girl." He walked over and enveloped Samantha in a bear hug. The helium balloons clanked together to create a symphony of bouncing balloons.

Samantha watched Martin. He looked hurt and angry. She rested her chin on Greg's shoulder and watched with sad eyes as Martin slowly made his way to the door. She felt like crying. It was her turn to hurt him.

Martin took one last look at the couple. They had their arms wrapped each other. Samantha stared at him with sad and pity eyes. He turned around and walked out of the room and the hospital. He felt ridiculous and shameful for telling Samantha that he loved her. He shouldn't have anticipated the same reaction.

**XxX**

**There's still more chapters to come…..**


	9. Ending

**Chapter nine**

**-Ending-**

**XxX**

**-December 26- **

Samantha mentally kicked herself for not going after Martin yesterday. He told her how he felt, and all she did was hug her boyfriend. She felt reprehensible and outlandish. She didn't even like Greg for more than occasional sex. Right after Martin left the hospital, she broke up with Greg. She did it in an unfair way, but her justification was that Martin broke up with her in an unfair way.

Samantha had conviction, but with each step she took, her demeanor melted away as her nerves boiled to the surface. She was on her way up to Martin's apartment. She had made a point of getting up earlier so that she could see him before work. When she reached the door, she stopped almost deciding if she should go in or not. She immediately brought her hand up and rasped on the door; she was afraid that if she didn't do it now then she wasn't going to do it.

She stood in the hallway trying to compose herself when she heard the door handle jiggle. She tried to calm her nerves in the split second that it took Martin to open the door. At first Samantha just stared at him with a wide jaw. "Hi," she greeted. He just stared at her. "Can I come in?"

Martin was hesitant at first, but he easily stepped out of the way to allow Samantha in.

Samantha stepped in and looked around. It had been nearly a month since she had been in there. She inhaled Martin's unmistakable scent as she slowly spun herself around to allow her eyes to register everything. She smiled not realizing that Martin was examining her.

Martin's hands were crossed over his chest. He stared peculiarly at her wondering what she was doing. He was mad at her for making him love her. He was mad at her for being so much like Olivia. He was mad at her for saying nothing after his confession. Yet, as he watched her look around his apartment, he couldn't help it. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He smiled at her.

Samantha took a deep breath before letting it out. "It looks….different," she said with a smile. Nerves racked her body. Her pupils stopped roaming, and they strayed to Martin.

Martin worked his tongue in to the side of his cheek. Every positive feeling in the world clouded his mind with nothing but confusion. He wanted to be mad at her but couldn't. He wanted to have a relationship with her, but he was afraid. He wanted to hold her, but his conscience told him not to. She had a boyfriend. "Samantha," he began, "what are you doing here?" He wanted to skip the small talk and dive right in for the answers.

Samantha was surprised at first. He wasn't afraid to cut to the chase. She dropped her arms and loudly sighed. She slightly turned her head. "I wanted to see you." She was disappointed by Martin's statement.

Martin stared at her, fervent to touch her. He didn't allow his eyes to meander over Samantha's body. He finally dropped his arms to his side before saying, "Go home." It wasn't mean; his words conveyed more hurt and anger than anything else.

Samantha's shoulders fell. His words stung. She hated that he had that kind of control over her. How could one man's words force her emotions to spiral out of control? She thought about leaving. She even turned around and took a few steps to the door, but she stopped. She wasn't leaving without hearing and saying what she came here for. She held her shoulders and head high before taking a few steps towards Martin. She was still a good distance away from Martin. Her face softened, and her eyes filled with hope. "Did you mean what you said?"

Martin sat on the couch. He rested his head in his hand. He stared at her trying to read her intentions. He sighed and lifted his head off of his hand. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked to the ground. He looked up at Samantha. He took a few breathes. He didn't even blink. "I meant it."

Samantha ran over and sat next to Martin. "How about now?"

Martin looked at Samantha. "Are you trying to get me to spill my feelings so you can just squash them like a bug?" He turned towards her and rested his hands on his lap.

Samantha leaned back at his comment. Martin just stared at her blankly. "Okay," she said slowly, "I deserved that." Samantha moved closer to Martin. She slowly moved her hand to lay it on top of Martin's hand. She left if there for a few seconds before retracting it. When Martin didn't move his hand, she replaced her hand. "I'm sorry," she said. "I wasn't expecting that. You surprised me."

Martin claimed his hand and stood up. He took a few steps away from Samantha and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Why did you come here?"

Samantha stood up and stepped closer to Martin but was careful to leave enough distance. She softened her face and cocked her head. She was afraid of what she was about to say. This could go either way: good or bad. She could feel the butterflies dancing in her stomach. No. The butterflies weren't dancing. They were fighting. "Because I love you."

Martin's eyes darted up to see Samantha. His eyes had something in them that they didn't before. It was almost happiness. He didn't say anything, though. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Samantha's nerves were escalating by Martin's silence. She didn't move. "Danny said that you were the one that wouldn't give up looking for me. I was praying that you were the one that was going to find me," Samantha added.

Martin looked at her. He still wasn't sure if this was a good idea. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her, as if to challenge her. "What about Greg?"

Samantha smiled briefly. "I broke up with him. I didn't love him. I love you."

Martin played with his tongue. "So now you just expect me to come running into your arms and kiss you and to pretend that everything is fine?"

Samantha cocked her eye brow. She folded her arms in her lap. "We can just be friends," she suggested. "We can gradually make our way to the top." She paused and looked at Martin. "I'm willing to try, aren't you?"

Martin thought about it for a moment. For the first time in a while, a smile crossed his lips. "I like that idea." He stared at her. Her smile was so beautiful.

Samantha turned around, smiling the whole time. She was excited in a way. Although Martin and her weren't going out, she was happy just to have Martin in her life again. She felt a gentle hand wrap around her waist. Samantha's eyes went wide as she felt Martin pull her close to him. She turned around in Martin's arms, confused.

Martin caressed Samantha's cheek. "Then again," he said, "why should we wait?"

Samantha smiled. She knew what he meant. He didn't want to be friends. He wanted to be more than that. She leaned in to Martin's touch and closed her eyes. A few tears escaped her eyes before she whispered, "Can I kiss you?" She kept her eyes closed. Then, without warning, she felt Martin's lips cover hers gently caressing. She opened her mouth and allowed Martin's tongue to grapple with her own.

The kiss was passionate and tender. It lasted longer than it should have on account they both had a job to do. Their hands roamed around each other's bodies touching what had grown foreign to them until that moment. Even after their lips parted, their bodies remained close as their make-out session turned into a long, romantic hug immediately followed by cuddle time. They stared into each other's eyes grateful for the other.

_-The End-_


End file.
